


Shadow Six

by lady_needless_litany



Category: Star Wars: Bloodline - Claudia Gray
Genre: Don't copy to another site, F/M, Post-Star Wars: Bloodline, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:01:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21581923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_needless_litany/pseuds/lady_needless_litany
Summary: Six and a half months after his arrest, Ransolm had given up. Leia, on the other hand, had done no such thing.
Relationships: Ransolm Casterfo/Leia Organa
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8
Collections: Star Wars Rare Pairs Exchange 2019





	Shadow Six

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badritual](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badritual/gifts).



> To be honest, I'm not at all familiar with Vi Moradi, but she seems cool, so I decided to include her.

Ransolm Casterfo laid on the bed in his cell, trying to ignore the muscular ache seeping through every centimetre of his body. Of course, it wasn't a bed at all, really, just wafer-thin foam mattress over a hard metal platform.

It was about six and a half months after his arrest. He hadn't bothered counting the days precisely - there was little point.

Those six and a half months had been an odd kind of limbo. Ransolm knew that it would likely end in his execution, but that likelihood never seemed real to him. The only things that felt real were the four walls of his durasteel cage, his paltry mattress, and the artificial coldness that seemed to have settled into the marrow of his bones. There were occasional excursions: to the courtroom, to meet his barrister. Other than that, his world was utterly grey.

By no means had he been treated poorly; he was fed and watered regularly, he was escorted to private ablution facilities daily, he had a private cell, he was given clean clothes several times a week. He suspected that it was partially due to his status as former senator and partially because he hadn't - not even once - offered any token of resistance.

But Riosa wasn't known for an efficient justice system - by their standards, his case was being processed fairly rapidly. He'd known about that reality as senator and now cursed the fact that he'd never done anything about it. His sentencing was to be the next day, followed by an appeal if he was found guilty, then an appeal against the appeal, then the standard period before the execution was carried out. Meaning that he might finally reach his end in about eighteen months time. Eighteen miserable months. If his experience so far was anything to go by, he detachedly observed that he may well lose his mind to boredom before his expiry date. If he hadn't, the fatal injection would certainly be a welcome release.

He laid there, pondering such things and sliding in and out of drowsiness, as had become his habit. Or, more accurately, his entire existence.

And then, suddenly, he heard something that was decidedly non-routine.

"One-sixteen, one-seventeen, one-eighteen," said an unfamiliar voice. It lacked the blatant disinterest that was typically characteristic of Riosan prison officers, so Ransolm took a cursory interest. "One-nineteen, one-twenty! This is it, right?"

"Yep," replied another strange voice. "He should be in one-twenty."

There was a beep as whoever it was swiped their ID card over the security panel, then the door slid open. Ransolm sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, but kept quiet - best to assess the situation before saying or doing anything rash. Someone stepped through the door. Dark clothes, a blaster in hand. A fair bit shorter than him. Dark hair that ended in electric-blue tips. Definitely not a guard.

"You're Casterfo, right?" She sounded like she already knew the answer. Unsurprising, really, seeing as his face had been plastered across the holonews feeds during the Rinrivinn Di investigation. And after Tai-Lin Garr's assassination. It still felt like Ransolm's stomach contracted every time he thought of that.

"Yes," Ransolm answered, still guarded.

"Okay, then. You're gonna need to come with us."

"Why?" "Well, I'm not entirely sure, to be honest. But that's the mission, so..."

He narrowed his eyes. "Mission?"

"Yeah, we-"

"Vi, you need to hurry up," hissed the other voice from outside the room. "You can talk later."

"Right, sure," she turned to Ransolm.

He decided to take a gamble. It wasn't as if he had much to lose. He'd almost rather be taken out by a blaster bolt than wait another eighteen months.

It was a matter of seconds before he was out the door, following Vi through the corridors of the prison, trying to strike a balance between speed and silence. The man kept close behind him: watching their backs? Or making sure he didn't run away?

Ransolm couldn't be sure.

The corridors were mysteriously empty, he noted, until the man's comlink meeped. "Everyone else is onboard and ready to go. The fire's not going to keep them busy for much longer."

Ah. That explained the lack of guards.

Vi accelerated noticeably. "Got it."

Another left turn, then a long corridor, then a heavy door which the man opened with a flash of a card. Then they were out on a landing pad, which was occupied by a battered light freighter. The very second that they were on-board, the ship took off, not even waiting for the doors to close. The doors closed noisily as Ransolm took a seat on one of the metal benches lining the ship's interior. It was certainly austere, stripped of anything that would add extra weight, which meant that there was a clear view from door to cockpit. "

All okay?" asked the figure in the co-pilot's seat, as the man headed straight for the pilot's chair.

Refrains of "Yes, ma'am" bounced around the ship. He'd been too busy scanning the rest of the crew - three people, all strangers - to take notice of the pilots at first, but the voice made him turn his head in shock. It was female, authoritative, and belonged to someone that Ransolm had thought he'd never see again.

" _ _ _Leia___?" he said, incredulous. The chair turned and, yes, there was Leia Organa, in the flesh. Complete with a sly smile.

She gestured to the man to take the controls, which he did, giving the ship a burst of speed.

"Ransolm. You seem surprised." Leia stood up from the chair, moving to sit across from Ransolm. The others discreetly scooted up the benches, giving them as much space and privacy as they could in such a confined space.

"Surprised, yes, but not shocked." Ransolm said dryly. "Mainly confused as to why you'd want to rescue me."

"I promised I'd try to do something."

"I-" Ransolm's breath was knocked out of him as the ship jolted, suddenly changing direction. "I assumed you meant that you'd petition the Senate."

"I did, at the time. But as I'm no longer a member of the Senate..."

"You resigned?" he said, incredulous.

"It made sense. There was no future for me in the Senate."

He couldn't disagree with that. "So how did you pull this off?"

"I have my ways," Leia said elusively.

He decided not to press her. In that moment, he was too grateful to push his luck. "Well, thanks for coming to get me."

"Rumour has it that it wasn't going to end up in your favour," Leia replied. "I wouldn't be surprised if Carise had made sure of the outcome."

"Of course," Ransolm closed his eyes and leant backwards against the ship's cold wall. "Lady Carise. How could I forget?"

He hadn't forgotten, of course. He'd idly fantasized about throttling the woman. He'd had to fill his time somehow.

"Actually, it's just Carise nowadays." Ransolm cracked open an eyelid.

"What?" Unexpectedly, a look of utter self-satisfaction twisted her features. "Ah, Senator Sindian was most unfortunate. She's been stripped of all royal titles and is no longer considered a member of the Elder Houses."

He opened his eyes fully. "Care to tell me what kind of misfortune?"

"Her appropriation of my keepsake chest was a violation of the royal seal. I just brought that to the attention of the relevant powers." She shrugged. "It was all I could do at the time."

Ransolm couldn't help the slight grin curling the corners of his mouth. "I'm sure that hurt her. She's always set so much stock in her 'nobility'. Not that she was ever particularly noble." "I can't disagree with you there."

"So, apart from exacting revenge on self-absorbed politicians, what are you doing these days?" "Keeping myself busy." "Cagey." "Let's just say...once a rebel, always a rebel." Leia said it with a degree of finality, just as they prepared to jump into hyperspace; he sensed that was as much information as he was going to get for a while.

* * *

Somewhere down the line, Leia had suggested that he take a nap. When he'd argued, saying that he'd not done anything tiring for months, she replied that the constant threat of execution was enough to drain anyone; it was only then that he'd realised that he was almost dead on his feet. With sudden enthusiasm, he'd settled himself down on the floor, next to the bench, and promptly passed out.

He awoke as they dropped out of hyperspace with a jolt. Sleepily, he pulled himself upright.

"Alright," Leia said, breaking the loose quiet and instantly commanding everyone's attention. "We're coming up on Ryloth."

___Ryloth.___ They had history on Ryloth.

"Ahead of schedule, for once," the pilot chipped in, oblivious to Ransolm's thoughts.

Leia rolled her eyes good-naturedly, before turning to Ransolm.

"First things first: introductions. You've already met Poe and Vi," she said, indicating the pair that had rescued him from his cell. She gestured to the other two, one a young, male Mon Calamari, the other a female Twi'lek. "These are Jhell and Sarela, Resistance army."

___Resistance. That's new._ _ _

No surnames, no ranks, no subdivisions, though. She was playing it safe. Making sure he didn't have enough information to put anyone at risk, if he decided to go running to the First Order. Even as he acknowledged her prudence, the thought stung.

"Vi, it's essential that you cover our tracks. We can't be linked to Ransolm's escape. Jhell, Sarela, make sure that the paperwork is in order," she reminded them. It had the air of an oft-discussed plan, repeated more for comfort that for effect. "As always, we can't afford to get this wrong."

There was a series of nods and sounds of acknowledgement. Leia seemed satisfied, which Poe took as a cue to guide them towards the planet's surface, heading, he assumed, for the capital.

Ransolm's guess was proved correct. Within the hour, they'd landed and cleared their customs checks.

Most of the crew peeled off at once, clearly anxious to get on with their tasks. Poe stayed behind to run a few checks on the ship, as any competent pilot would have; Ransolm hadn't moved from his bench, but he chatted with the man amicably while he went about his work.

When he was done, Leia beckoned to him. "Poe, could you find Ransolm some clothes?"

"Sure." Poe turned to him. "Anything in particular? What's your style?"

Ransolm cracked a smile - he couldn't resist it. There was something charmingly ludicrous about being asked about his fashion sense during a highly covert rescue attempt.

"I'll take my cues from you," he managed. "Whatever you think is appropriate."

Poe gave a wicked grin. "You might regret that."

His departure left him and Leia together, with no particular purpose and an indeterminate length of time ahead of them.

"I'm going out to stretch my legs," she announced. "Are you coming?"

After being cooped up for so long, the idea was more than tempting. Still, his caution hadn't abandoned him. "What if someone recognises me?"

"It's a busy port. No-one's going to give you a second look."

He hesitated, vacillating. "Okay," he said, eventually. "But if this goes wrong, it's your fault."

She shrugged. "As always."

He followed her down the ramp. Despite her confidence, they both knew it would be unwise to venture far; instead, they plumped down on a nearby scattering of crates, more-or-less opposite one another. For a while, they simply sat, absorbing what was happening around them - the noise and the colour and the hustle and bustle was almost overwhelming, especially for Ransolm. He zeroed in on a civilian transport that was in his eyeline, amused by a group of raucous school-children and their long-suffering teachers.

"How are you?" Leia asked, quite suddenly.

"I'm alright. Better, now that you've helped me escape."

She flapped her hand dismissively. "That makes it sounds far more dramatic than it was."

"Leia, you ___broke me out of prison___ ," he said incredulously. "That's as dramatic as it gets."

She laughed. "You've got a lot to learn, if you think that's dramatic."

"It is! You're just something else." His tone sobered. "Seriously, though: thank you. I was losing my mind. And they would've found me guilty, sooner or later."

Silently, she nodded in acknowledgement.

"I've missed you, you know," Ransolm admitted, vision suddenly blurry. "More than I thought possible."

"Don't get sappy on me, now," she warned.

He took a breath, trying not to let the tears fall. "Sorry. That's what happens when you get too much time to think."

Her face softened. "I know."

Truly, he believed that she did know; that was a comfort in itself. Something told him that, if he continued, she would listen and understand and tell him that things would get better. He would weep and she would embrace him and the slight off-camber feeling would disappear.

But he didn't. The timing felt wrong, the setting too public. That was a conversation for another day.

Instead, he gathered his thoughts, shifting into less emotional topics. "What's happening now?"

"This is just a stop on the way. We should be enroute again in a couple of hours."

"Are we changing ships?"

"No. Just getting lost in the port's traffic, switching the ship's ID code. Keeping ourselves low-profile."

"I see." He frowned. "Why such secrecy? You're going to a lot of effort."

"Right now, our little group is unknown. We don't even register on the Republic's radar. We're trying to keep it that way for as long as possible."

He nodded, understanding. "Where are we going, after here?"

"I can't tell you," she said, measured. "It's sensitive information."

"And… you need to know that you can trust me before you tell me."

"Exactly," she replied, before reflecting his own words back at him. "I need to know that I can trust you."

"Look, put it this way," he said earnestly. "The Centrists - no, ___everyone___ \- abandoned me. You were the only one that didn't. That counts for something."

He could see her eyes searching his, desperately wanting to believe him. "I know," she said, finally. "Just know that if you betray me, I will ___personally___ deliver you to the Riosan authorities."

"Throwing me out of an airlock would be quicker," he tempered.

"And less painful," she said, relaxing slightly. "Which is why that's the last resort."

* * *

Even then, Leia was sparing with the information she shared. By the time they had almost reached their destination - which he wasn't privy to - all he really knew was that her group expanded beyond the four others on the ship. The Resistance, she called it.

The rest of the trip was spent catching up on politics and gossip - to the outside eye, the Senate was as inert as ever, but Leia and Ransolm knew better. Really, he'd forgotten how formidable her knowledge and web of contacts was; within a matter of hours, he knew more able the state of the galaxy than most other people that lived in it. In general, the others stayed quiet, to the point where he silently questioned if they'd been instructed to do so.

As they dropped out of hyperspace, Ransolm peered at the planet through the cockpit windows. Vaguely, he kicked himself, knowing that he should have recognised - apparently, the geography lessons of his childhood had slipped away. Even from outside the atmosphere, it was clear that the place was heavily forested, with an unbroken canopy that suggested that its inhabitants were comparatively few.

"Our main base," Leia explained without prompting, like she'd read his mind. She was sat opposite him, an arm's length away.

"You keep saying 'our' and 'we'," he noted. "But you haven't actually told me what the Resistance is."

"You'll find out soon enough," she said, provoking an eye-roll. She grinned, a familiar mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "In the meantime, enjoy the mystery."

Just then, a voice crackled through the radio, demanding call signs and intentions.

Poe replied. "D’Qar base, this is Shadow Six requesting permission to land. I repeat, Shadow Six requesting permission to land."

Ransolm raised a sceptical eyebrow. "'Shadow Six?'"

"Dramatic, I know," Leia rolled her eyes. "But our Shadow vessels are our most incognito ones. Freighters and supply ships and civilian ships. Easy to slip past checkpoints."

"Fair."

A radio-distorted voice answered. "Shadow Six, you are cleared to land."

Not a minute late, they touched down gently and the door opened, letting the sunlight pour through it. After the near twilight of the ship, Ransolm blinked quickly as his eyes adjusted. He walked side-by-side with Leia down the ramp.

As they exited, he saw a base far more active than he expected. There were buildings and ships and dozens of people working, wearing uniforms denoting a far more significant organisation that the one he'd envisaged.

Leia cast an assessing side-glance at him to catch his reaction. "Welcome to the Resistance."

* * *

Early evening saw the pair of them sitting at a rickety portable table in Leia's quarters, relieved to be away from prying eyes. Still, even a tour and a dinner later, Ransolm still had one major question.

He chewed his lip. "So, what happens now?"

Leia hesitated a moment. "That's up to you. If you want to stay, you'll be welcomed. We could use someone with your skills. If you'd rather not, we'll find you a quiet independent planet and set you up there and leave you in peace."

"I guess it depends on what this is, exactly."

"The Resistance?"

"Mhm. What are you actually doing here? What are you trying to achieve? Are you just renegade Populists, or something more?"

Leia released a heavy sigh. "I've come to see the flaws of the Populist way of thinking. Tai-Lin, as much as I respected him, would've used his powers as First Senator to let the Republic stagnate. That's not something that we can afford to do."

Ransolm remained quiet, nodding to acknowledge her point.

"So, no, we're not Populists," she continued. "Right now, we're trying to oppose the Senate's bureaucracy, to try and push it in the right direction before it's too late. If and when a Centrist militancy arises, which seems almost inevitable, we'll oppose that, too."

A nod. "I see. How are you doing that?"

"It's a lot of trying to get other people to join us - mainly planetary-level political figures and smaller paramilitary groups that are looking for change. There's also the matter of building up our resources and opening up bases that have been shut for over twenty years."

“Let me sleep on it. I’ll tell you in the morning.”

Understanding, she nodded. “Of course.”


End file.
